You Don't Know My Name
by Dr. Holland
Summary: 1500 years after the time of Camelot and Albion, Gwen is a waitress at a diner in NYC's Financial District. Every morning at 10, a certain handsome Pendragon comes in, sits at her counter, and orders pie and coffee. An Arwen modern AU where the once and future royal couple live again. (Rated M for future chapters.)
1. The Waitress and the Dragon

**YOU DON'T KNOW MY NAME**

**Summary:** 1500 years after the time of Camelot and Albion, Gwen is a waitress at a diner in NYC's Financial District. Every morning at 10, a certain Pendragon comes in, sits at her counter, and orders pie and coffee. An Arwen modern AU where the once and future royal couple live again. Rated M for future chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, or Arthur, or any of the knights. (More's the pity.) Veteran of many fandoms, but this is my first Merlin fanfic. (Be gentle!)

**Rating: **M

**Chapter 1 – The Waitress and the Dragon**

_**Gwen**_

She could set her watch by it.

Every weekday morning at 10, three things would happen at the Liberty Cafe and Diner like clockwork.

The timer on the coffee maker would beep.

The theme song for the _Rachael Ray _show would sound from the TV speakers.

And a young businessman would walk in the front door, sit at the counter, and unfold his copy of the _New York Times._

Every weekday morning at 10, she'd take his order for pie and coffee. Until the day that she didn't.

At 10 AM that day, Gwen was busy taking an order at one of the tables. Retired couple from Australia. The wife's hair was like a cloud that matched her husband's Saint Nick-worthy beard. They were nice enough, if a bit chatty.

Liberty Cafe didn't get as many tourists as other, classier spots closer to Midtown and Times Square. Liberty was one of those no-frills, greasy spoon neighborhood diners that only New York locals favored, so mid-mornings after the breakfast rush were slow. The earliest anyone would come in looking for lunch was a quarter to 11. The other waitress on duty would usually take her break while Gwen would see to the few customers who made their way through the door.

_Including_ Mr. 10 AM.

But that day was different.

The boss had just hired a new waitress, a blonde bombshell from the cornfields by the name of Aria. Now, Aria just didn't get how things ran yet, although the girl had been working nearly a month. She often clocked in late, making excuses… an audition ran long, or a late-night performance led to oversleeping.

_(More tits than sense, _as Gwen's brother Elyan was fond of saying…. _after _he dodged out of Gwen's reach.)

Gwen knew the boss was looking for any excuse to fire that poor girl. But as much as the blonde annoyed her, she often found herself covering for Aria. She felt sorry for her. After all, if _she_ had a fancy drama school degree, she wouldn't want to go back to Nebraska, either. Everyone came to New York City to pursue their dreams.

But again, today was different.

Like any experienced waitress, Gwen could give the illusion of attentiveness to even the most trying patrons. As the elderly pair went on and on about all the attractions they'd seen, Gwen nodded and asked questions as if it was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard… as if she hadn't heard it all thousands of times before… _while_ keeping an eye on Aria as she flirted with Mr. 10 AM.

_You're totally overdoing it, _Gwen thought idly, feeling no more than a bit of jealousy. After all, for all she knew, Mr. 10 AM could be gay. He was friendly enough, but in all the months since he'd been coming to Liberty like clockwork, he'd never tried anything like some of the more grabby, desperate men who sat at the counter.

So it was funny to watch as Aria tried to work her feminine wiles on her favorite regular. Aria's breasts heaved as she leaned over the counter, and she had a goofy grin on her face. Mr. 10 AM barely registered the fact that she was there, keeping his eyes on the _Times _headlines.

Gwen stifled her giggle and turned her attention back to Grandma and Grandpa Australia.

"…and I swear, it was _the _most magnificent sight I'd ever seen! 'Liberty Enlightening the World,' I've always wanted to see her with my own two eyes, and now I have."

"Was she everything you'd imagined?" Gwen replied, doing her best to keep her friendly smile from becoming a smirk at Aria's growing consternation.

"That and more," her husband piped up, as Aria took the _first _mug of coffee away from Mr. 10 AM, rushing toward the fresh pot. _Which she should have done in the first place_, thought practical Gwen. _He's nice, but he's particular about his coffee._

Walking away with the couple's order a moment later, Gwen rounded the end of the counter and was immediately greeted by Aria.

"Gwen, I hate to ask, but…"

"Problem customer?"

"Yes!" she whispered. "I've served him his coffee _twice. _The first he said was too cold and left an aftertaste. Now he says it's too bitter. The nerve! This isn't Starbucks!"

Gwen chuckled. "He's one of my regulars. Very particular… just look at the cufflinks, that tells you all you need to know."

"He doesn't like me," Aria sniffed.

_Of course he doesn't, _thought Gwen. _Poor kid._

"Let me take him off your hands, doll. You go take care of those tourists."

Aria seemed grateful. "Thanks, Gwen. There's just no pleasing some people! I hate rich snobs… anyway, I'm happy to split the tip."

_Oh, you sweet young thing, _Gwen thought. Aria had yet to learn that overseas tourists could be the absolute _worst_ when it came to taking care of wait staff. Most countries didn't observe America's rules for tipping. _Or paying the help less than minimum wage, making it impossible to save up._

"Yeah, sure," she said casually, tearing the top page off her notepad. "Go on, put the order in."

As Aria scampered away, Gwen went for a fresh mug of coffee. She shook her head at the milky mess Aria had set down in the dish pan nearest the sink. _Clueless girl is clueless. _Mr. 10 AM liked his coffee _fresh_, _black_, and _sweet_.

Precisely the way she always fixed it for him.

Walking down the counter with the mug of coffee in hand, Gwen sized up Mr. 10 AM. Usually he was dressed in a much more conservative navy blue or gray suit; today, he'd chosen dark taupe. He was one of the most handsome men Gwen had ever seen in person, but the color of his suit did nothing for him (blondes weren't really suited for taupe, in her opinion), and the tie he'd chosen was quite hard on the eyes.

This told her a few things about him: he was probably colorblind, he was likely single, and he was almost certainly _not _gay. No self-respecting gay dude Gwen knew would walk around like that voluntarily, and no self-respecting woman would have imposed it on her boyfriend or husband.

It wasn't that he looked _bad _\- that would be impossible for such a well-built specimen. It was just that she was used to him looking a bit more polished.

Gwen wondered what was going on.

When she was still fifteen feet away, Mr. 10 AM looked up…

And he smiled.

She smiled back. "Hey there. TGIF," she said.

"Hello yourself," he replied. (She _loved _his smooth British accent; hearing it was the highlight of her day.) When Gwen went to place his mug next to the paper, he took it from her hands instead.

"Careful, it's hot," she warned, as his large fingertips brushed her small brown ones. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it made her feel tingly and excited every time.

_Stop it, Gwen. _ _No sense in fawning over the man… especially after all these months._

Mr. 10 AM didn't reply at first, just took a sip. His blue eyes closed with pleasure.

"Yes… just how I like it."

Gwen smiled warmly. But when he opened his eyes and stared at her, it took all her years of waitressing not to get flustered.

_Well. This is new. Usually he just turns back to his paper…_

"I'm glad. What kind of pie will you be having today?"

"What have you got?"

"You're in luck! Today we've got apple crumb, pumpkin, or coconut cream." She tried not to bite her lip. Most of the time, she didn't care what people thought of the pies, but what none of the customers knew was that they were _her _pies.

Gwen had spent her time in culinary school well. She'd spent her late teens and early 20s doing housekeeping and minding rich people's children on the Upper East Side. When she'd had enough of that, she'd done two baking courses, one in Paris, and one right here in New York. The waitressing, the hovel of a studio apartment in the Meatpacking District with access to a commercial kitchen, saving money, the long hours and the sacrifices, all of it was going to be so she could open her bake shop…

Someday.

She said none of this, but was quite pleased that Liberty's regulars kept coming back for her pies and cakes and confections. She loved the quiet simplicity of her life…

_Including_ her harmless bedtime fantasies of what Mr. 10 AM might look like under those suits of his.

"Well, although the coconut cream and pumpkin are divine…"

She returned his smile. "I don't even know why I ask. You love our apple crumb pie."

"It's my favorite."

The pie had been baking last night in her oven upstairs. There were plenty enough pies in stock, but they'd had a big group in the afternoon before. Suddenly Gwen was happy that she'd stayed up late preparing it.

Instead of going back to his paper, he kept staring at her. Almost as if he couldn't help it…

"Can I get you something else?"

She regretted her words as soon as they escaped her lips. He broke the stare. But instead of looking at his paper, he looked away.

"No, pie and coffee sound good. Thanks."

Gwen nodded and scurried off to fill his order. And usually, Mr. 10 AM would return to his paper. But today was different.

He was staring at her as she worked. Watching every move she made. Suddenly, she felt hot in her uniform.

As she walked back with the pie and a napkin-wrapped set of silver, their eyes met again.

"Here's your pie, Mr…"

"Pendragon."

_Pendragon. _After all these months, she _finally_ had a last name for her devastatingly handsome regular. The name was unfamiliar to Gwen, but it radiated power and prestige. She wondered if he had a lordly title back home across the pond. It also seemed oddly familiar.

_Where have I heard that name before?_

It didn't matter. It was good to know his name. _No more Mr. 10 AM._

"Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Pendragon?"

He was unwrapping his fork and knife. "No, that will be all."

Gwen went to head back down the counter, but his voice stopped her short.

"Wait. There is one more thing…"

She turned around expectantly, wondering if she should have added more whipped cream or something.

"Is your name actually Gwen?" He indicated her name tag.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course. What else would it be?"

"Well, you don't seem like a Gwen at all."

_What was he playing at? _

"I assure you, everyone calls me Gwen."

"Come on, that can't really be the name you were born with?"

Her mirth died down and the smile disappeared from her face.

_Everyone calls me Gwen. Everyone since…_

"I should not have been so presumptuous. Please forgive me."

_Did he seem… flustered?_

"There's nothing to forgive, Mr. Pendragon," she said quickly. "Gwen is my nickname. My name is Guinevere."

Now it was his turn to fall silent. "Guinevere?"

"Yes, it is. Can you believe it? Guinevere _Findabair_ Leodegrance! That's my entire name. And my parents actually claimed that they love me!"

She couldn't suppress the girlish giggle that escaped her lips. _Great, he'll think I'm as flighty as Aria._

He was shaking his head. "I can't believe it. _Guinevere._"

"Ridiculous, right? I mean, my dad was a nice, normal dockworker from Louisiana, but my mother taught medieval literature and folklore at CUNY. Loved anything from the Middle Ages… but now, I'll bet you understand why I prefer Gwen. You would too."

"Guinevere," he breathed, and this time the way he said it sent little chills up and down Gwen's spine.

_Oh, Mr. Pendragon, we're heading into uncharted waters. _

"My name is Arthur."

She couldn't help her frown. "I thought your name was Pendragon?"

"It is. I am Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Albion International."

Gwen forced a laugh. Completely ignoring the fact that he'd just told her he was the _CEO _of one of the richest corporations on the planet, she focused on the first part of his confession.

"Wait. Your name is _Arthur_? As in, that's your _actual_ first name?"

"Since the day I was born."

_Arthur and Guinevere. _

The way Arthur Pendragon was looking at her made Gwen want to fan herself. Suddenly, things were going far beyond her even her most creative fantasies… time to lighten the mood so the man could finish his coffee and get back to work.

Even if that was the very last thing she wanted him to do.

"Well, look at that," she quipped, attempting to lighten things. "Don't we make a pair? Queen Guinevere serving King Arthur his pie and coffee every weekday at ten," she chuckled. "Enjoy your breakfast, hon."

He said no more, and the jingle of the bells on the door signaled another group coming in, this time Red Hat society ladies who'd just seen the 9/11 memorial and were heading uptown to tour the museums. For the next while, Gwen was so busy taking their orders that she didn't get the chance to check on Mr. 10 AM… no, _Arthur Pendragon._

When she got back to the counter, Mr. Pendragon was gone. As always, there was a $20 dollar bill on the table next to his empty plate. _Always knew he had some fancy job, leaving nearly $15 for the tip…_

Beside the bill was his business card. Arthur Pendragon was indeed the CEO of Albion International. It was a Fortune 500 corporation that even Gwen who didn't pay attention to such things had heard about. She'd even heard the name before…

It suited him.

She was going to put the card in her pocket when she noticed that there was writing on the other side.

_Guinevere – dinner tonight. After your shift. Text me and let me know if you want to come. I'll send a car. –A._

**AG-AG-AG-AG-AG**

_**Arthur**_

As he walked around his loft penthouse later that evening, checking the details of the caterers' work, Arthur couldn't stop thinking about the _gorgeous_ little waitress at the Liberty Diner.

Guinevere. (Thank the gods he _finally _had a name for that pretty face.) Of course that would be her name. It suited her. It pleased him.

Guinevere Leodegrance (for in his head, she was already Guinevere, _never _Gwen). She'd had top billing in his daydreams _and _erotic fantasies for quite some time… perhaps ever since the first time he'd stumbled into the diner after learning his latest ex-girlfriend wasn't who she said she was. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to their first encounter.

He'd been so hung over that he was absolutely no good that day. It was the morning after his ex-girlfriend Mithian had cleared out the last of her things, and Arthur had drunk himself to sleep. He was hung over… so hung over, in fact, that he'd fallen asleep during one of his father's presentations.

Uther, chairman of the Albion International board of directors, had _not _been pleased. He'd pulled his only son aside after everyone else had gone. In typical Uther fashion, Arthur had been chewed up, spat out, and put into his place within the first minute of his father's lecture.

"No true Pendragon man broods and simpers over a mere _woman, _Arthur_," _raged Uther. "I told you that Mithian girl did not come from the right sort of family. The blood of lords and ladies, kings and queens run through your veins!"

"Yes, but we live in _America _now, Father," Arthur slurred. He was so tired of his father's elitism, for there was no end to it.

"You are making me regret choosing you over your sister to run this company."

Normally, his father's harsh words would have cut Arthur to the heart, but today, he was too sad to care.

"Perhaps you're right, Father. Ever since my _dear _sister took over Ealdor Corp, they've been poised to run Albion out of business. Perhaps it's poetic justice since you dragged me out of a lucrative military career _and _decided to pass Morgana over just because she's a woman…"

Uther raised a hand to strike his son, but thought better of it. After all, it wouldn't do if the story of a Pendragon civil war leaked to the press.

"Get out of my sight."

He had. Waving off the fawning employees, Arthur rode down the glass elevator of the Albion Center One skyscraper, and dialed his best friend's number. He was annoyed when after several rings, instead of Merlin's voice, the voicemail recording played.

"_Merlin, _you damnable lumphead, where the hell are you? Stop groping whatever illegal coed you've taken to bed this time, wake up, and call me back."

That was just like Merlin… oh wait, it was _Dr. _Emrys now. Merlin was a chemistry postdoc at Columbia, which in Arthur's view, was really his lifelong comrade's excuse to stay drunk and sleep in late with cute undergrads. He was too stupid to be anyone's professor, let alone in the Ivy League.

Arthur stumbled about a block until a door chime and the scent of fresh coffee filled his senses. He must have passed by the nondescript diner countless times, but never thought to walk in. It just wasn't the kind of place that he'd ever been drawn to… but he needed coffee, immediately, and the block and a half to the shop that sold the Illy espresso he favored seemed impossibly far away.

He walked into the Liberty Cafe and Diner.

And that's when he noticed the pretty little waitress.

_Guinevere. _

He'd observed her every weekday morning for months now. And everything he'd discovered about Guinevere Leodegrance was pleasing to him.

To be certain, there were a thousand young women in Manhattan alone who were more conventionally beautiful, whatever the fuck _that _meant. His ex Mithian had been one of those – supermodel, dressed in the latest fashions, never a hair out of place. It was what Arthur knew and expected out of women, for all the women of his acquaintance were like that… even his dear, _sweet _half-sister.

But Arthur was dead tired of pointless, expensive arm candy. Before Mithian, he'd dated the equally pretty and equally _bland_ Vivian. Before Vivian, he'd dated… what was her name again? The one whose father had an elaborate scheme to kidnap or kill him?

Oh, that was Sophia. He'd almost forgotten her crazy ass.

And before Sophia, there was…

Hell. He couldn't even remember.

But then there was Guinevere. His little waitress instantly set his blood on fire from the first smile she'd flashed at him when he sat down at the counter.

That first day, he'd ordered black coffee with sugar and no cream… and a slice of the apple crumb pie that was in a glass display dish down the counter. Growing up with posh English and Welsh parents as he had, American desserts were still a bit of a novelty and a treat for him. Pies were a bit sweeter and more extravagant than the tarts the Pendragon cooks made…

That night, he'd dreamed of her.

And Guinevere had tasted like that heavenly apple crumb pie all over.

So Arthur had gone into Liberty every day for the past nine months. Mithian had run off with Leon right before Christmas; it was now early September. Every weekday at ten, the most delectable little waitress in Manhattan served him coffee that was fresh, hot, dark, and sweet… and slices of apple pie that melted in his mouth.

Arthur didn't miss his 10 am appointments for vacation or holidays, either. He'd been there on Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day…

And his little waitress was always right there waiting for him.

It wasn't as if he'd planned to ask Guinevere out when he went in that day. Sure, he'd known months earlier that he would love to have a laugh with her over something stronger than coffee. He'd enjoy having a meal with her more substantial than even Liberty Diner's heavenly pies.

And he'd risk being disowned by his father just to have her in his bed for one night…

Just to see her pretty, smiling face when he woke up in the morning.

Merlin, as always, was the first to realize something was going on.

"So what's her name, Wart?"

Arthur (who had been enjoying a mug of beer) set it on the table they were sitting at in the upscale sports bar where they were watching the World Cup… and walloped Merlin on the head.

"Ow! What's _that _for?"

"That was for calling me _Wart." _He and Merlin had been tossing back and forth insults and degrading nicknames since childhood. The two men had almost nothing in common save for being the only two boys from England at their tony boarding school more than ten years earlier. Merlin had been a scholarship student; Arthur hadn't been. And although they were close, the insufferable dollophead pissed him off more often than not.

Yet if he were forced to admit it, Arthur knew that Merlin was more than a friend. He was Arthur's brother, if not in blood, in every other sense of the word.

"Whatever, idiot. You've got a new girlfriend, don't deny it!"

"The only thing I'm not denying is that you've still got the hots for that Icelandic chick…"

"Don't bring Freya into this, Arthur. Changing the subject won't work. Who is she, and why are you so quiet about it? This is not like you."

"What's not like me?"

"Subtlety."

Arthur glared.

"So at least tell me what she looks like?"

_Silky dark curls I want to twirl around my fingers. Smooth, soft-looking dark skin. Breasts that make me want to thank whatever third-rate manufacturer made those Liberty waitresses' shirts. And her eyes… _

_Her eyes are as dark and sweet and hot as the coffee she serves up daily. I could get lost in those eyes, Merlin._

_I could look into them forever._

"I'm not telling you a thing."

And he'd thumped Merlin again before getting up and heading back to the bar for another round.

_Guinevere. _He loved his daily ritual of going to read the paper, enjoying the perfect coffee and pie, and seeing _her. _But her name…

Her name was a sign.

Arthur believed in signs.

The front desk called up, signaling that a Miss _Leodegrance_ was on her way up to his suite. He scanned the studio penthouse, located at the top of the hotel, taking in the dim lighting, the candlelight and meal the caterers had set up before leaving just a few minutes before, the panoramic view of the nighttime New York City skyline…

Everything was ready.

**_-__to be continued-_**

**A/N: **This is my first fanfiction for the BBC's Merlin television show. I recently finished the series and was completely smitten by Arthur and Gwen's smoldering chemistry. Although the ending was very sad, since Arthur is the once and future king… why couldn't Gwen also be his once and future queen? I thought about what it'd be like if they were reborn in the 21st century, and then…

And then I flashed back to the Alicia Keys video for "You Don't Know My Name," and this fic came to be.

So tell me, Merlin &amp; Arwen fans. What do you think happens next?

Until next time… cheers!

**~Dr. Holland **


	2. Once and Future Pie

**YOU DON'T KNOW MY NAME**

**Summary:** 1500 years after the time of Camelot and Albion, Gwen is a waitress at a diner in NYC's Financial District. Every morning at 10, a certain Pendragon comes in, sits at her counter, and orders pie and coffee. An Arwen modern AU where the once and future royal couple live again. Rated M for future chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, or Arthur, or any of the knights. (More's the pity.) Veteran of many fandoms, but this is my first Merlin fanfic. (Be gentle!)

**Rating: **M

**Chapter 2 – Once and Future Pie**

_**Gwen**_

It had been a long day at the Liberty Cafe, but somehow, Gwen managed to make it out of her place and into the town car with a minimum of fuss.

Mr. 10 AM (no, Arthur, _Arthur Pendragon _as in _Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Albion International, _he of the burnished golden hair, fathoms-deep sapphire eyes, and pouty, smirking smile) had texted her several tantalizing times since her text message indicating that she was, indeed, free for dinner that evening.

_Great! I'll send a car to your place around 7:30 pm._

Gwen had just gotten off her afternoon break when she received his first text. It made her heart beat fast.

_Perhaps we could just meet at the restaurant?_

She managed to send it off just as Aria managed to drop the _entire _platter of food she'd been carrying in a spectacular crash in the middle of the diner's floor, splattering several patrons in the process. Shoving her phone into its niche next to her purse, Gwen hurried to deflect the owner's wrath from the other waitress.

Yes, the girl was clueless. But rent being what it was in the Big Apple, Aria needed the job. Gwen was sympathetic. Her own rainy day jar had been depleted by her frequent trips to the store for baking supplies.

_Necessary investment for a dream, _thought Gwen. _Everyone in this city has a dream._

She was busy for the rest of her shift, helping Aria and the busboy get things cleaned up, then running orders until her feet ached and she longed for a bubble bath. So she imagined herself into one, and the minutes and hours slipped away…

Yeah, that was Gwen's strategy for getting through the drudgery of waitressing. It was as her father always said. There was always an end to any dreary task… and that end would be your reward. _Hard work is its own reward, _her father liked to say. _It makes leisure all the sweeter._

She had been soaking in her well-earned bubble bath a few hours later when her phone buzzed. Gwen had been so weary when she got off her shift that she hadn't checked it before getting on the train… indeed, she hadn't done much except zone out and use the time to transform from her "you want fries with that?" mode to thinking about her business.

_This is the second time my wholesaler's run out of crème __fraîche, and I really wanted to try using it instead of sour cream in my new ermine icing recipe. _

That was the sort of thing Gwen typically thought about from the moment she walked out of the diner until she plunged into her bubble bath… most days, that is.

Today, instead of concentrating on the mundane details of trying to start a bakery, Gwen couldn't help but dream about her date with Arthur, which made her finally pick up the phone to see if he'd replied to her message with the name of a restaurant.

She couldn't remember feeling this excited about a man in a long time.

The messages scrolled up and down her screen the moment she unlocked her phone.

_Nonsense, I insist. What's your address? _was his first text, sent moments after the last she'd been able to send from work.

Then, twenty minutes later:

_Never mind, I've got it. Car will be waiting for you._

Five minutes after that:

_You know, there's no need to thank me so fast. _

_Will think of a… more appropriate way for you to thank me later._

And in another two minutes:

_Guinevere? Are you getting these messages?_

_Are you all right?_

She then had _three_ missed calls in a row.

The last had been just moments before she checked her phone.

Gwen giggled to herself. Arthur was forward, presumptuous, and _almost _treading into stalker territory. But she was also loving the fact that someone had texted her other than her grocer or her little brother that day!

Picking up the phone, she dialed him. Arthur picked it up half a ring later.

"Guinevere. For a moment, I thought you'd changed your mind."

_I love the way he says my name. He almost _purrs_ it._

"Of course not. I had nothing but tables and trouble this afternoon at work, then of course there's no cell reception underground…"

"You live in the _basement_?"

Gwen smiled. _I love the way his voice sounds in my ear, even if he seems a bit appalled that some of us mere mortals are sewer dwellers._

"Yes, Arthur, I live in a _garden_ studio apartment, but I'm talking to you from my home. There's no cell reception on the _subway_."

"Right, I'd forgotten that, sorry."

_He's sending a car for you and found your address in a matter of minutes, Gwen. Do you really think this man rides the subway?_

"No worries," she replied brightly. "I'm soaking off the grime as we speak in a nice, warm bubble bath..." She trailed off at the sound he made (_did he just groan?)_. "Everything all right?"

"It's fine. Just… I've never seen you in anything other than those Liberty Café t-shirts. In every color, might I add." They both laughed. "But I must say that the idea of you soaking in a bathtub _right now_ is… quite enticing indeed."

"Well, Mr. Pendragon," she chuckled, "I look a lot different outside my work clothes."

"Oh, I'll bet you do, Guinevere." That sound again… and her _name_. "Care to make this a video call and show me?"

"Absolutely not!" Gwen couldn't help her giggle, which diffused the frisson of desire that shot through her veins at his words. "Bit forward to ask that of a girl you just met, isn't it?"

"Something I plan to rectify. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better tonight."

_I'll just bet you are._

_Me too._

All too soon, the call ended, with Arthur's assurances that his driver would bring her to their mysterious dinner location. Even though she didn't really care much for surprises, Gwen chose to go with it.

After all, it was exciting to _finally _go on a date where she could wear a slinky little dress and a pair of sky-high Jimmy Choo stilettos (her culinary school graduation shoes, and by far the most expensive thing she owned that wasn't baking equipment), and enjoy a night out with one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. One who had been starring in her dreams for quite a while.

But Gwen, for all her dreams, was a practical sort of girl. After all, she wasn't born yesterday, and she'd lived in New York her entire life. As she stepped out of the bath, dried off, and massaged scented L'Occitane en Provence oil into her skin, Gwen laid out her expectations for the evening.

First, a nice night on the town, courtesy of a man with cash to spare…

…followed by making out – and perhaps a _little _more – with that same man.

Anything beyond that? Gwen didn't expect much. To confirm her misgivings, she searched for "Arthur Pendragon" on Google. Her search confirmed what she already knew. Like any other good-looking rich guy, Arthur was totally into heiresses and socialites, models and actresses. A waitress with big dreams would be a mere dalliance for a man who seemed to have been photographed with a different cover girl on his arm each week over the past year.

There were even a few articles about Arthur's breakup the Christmas before with Mithian Nemeth, one of the most famous A-listers in young Hollywood. Gwen didn't follow celebrity gossip, but _everyone _knew who Mithian was. Her father, Rodor Nemeth, was the chairman and CEO of one of the world's largest petroleum companies, and her mother was descended from French, Spanish, and Monegasque royalty.

Gwen had always thought Mithian a talented actress, but as the photos scrolled across her screen, she felt inadequate.

_Is she Arthur's type? I don't look a thing like her… or Vivian, or Elena, or Sophia, or any of the women he's been with in the past._

_Even Arthur's own sister is exquisite. Morgana Pendragon... I remember when she was on the all the covers of the teen magazines a few years ago._

_What does it even matter? This is only for one night. Spurred on by a moment, a look, a touch…_

…_and the coincidence of our names. Arthur and Guinevere…_

_Guinevere. I love the way he says it. At the café. On the phone. Guinevere, not Gwen._

_Well, if I am to be a mere dalliance for Arthur, I'm going to be an affair to remember._

_And I am not going to sleep with him. No matter how long it's been since Lan… since the last time. _

_I am worth more than that. Arthur seems nice enough, but he's probably like many men of his class. Women throw themselves at men like him. I'm not going to be one of them._

She repeated this mantra to herself as she dressed, as she put on her makeup, as she slipped on an adorable little cocktail dress she couldn't pass up from H&amp;M, and her graduation Jimmy Choos, and as she finished her makeup and hair just as the driver called to say that he was parked outside the front door of her building.

She told herself that as she rode to her unknown destination to meet Arthur. _Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Albion International…_

But who would, in a sense, always be her mysterious "Mr. 10 AM" at Liberty Café.

They pulled up in front of a new high-rise very close to Central Park. Gwen rarely came to the Upper East Side these days; the last time she'd spent any amount of time here was before culinary school, when she worked as a nanny right after high school. (It was while working for the Ealdor family that she realized she'd much rather be in the kitchens than spending her days running after trust fund brats.)

Gwen realized the building was brand new, one of several condo skyscrapers only available to the wealthiest people in the world. Only two were finished, and all of them had exclusive restaurants, hotels, and shops at the lower level. She wondered where she'd be meeting Arthur…

"We've arrived, miss," the driver said, looking over his shoulder at her. He was young, with olive skin and sharp, aquiline features. "Mr. Pendragon is expecting you upstairs."

"Oh, how lovely… what's the name of the place?" Gwen adored rooftop restaurants. There was nothing quite like a room with a view.

The driver looked curiously back at her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The restaurant," Gwen explained. "I was just wondering if I've ever heard of it."

Confusion flickered in the driver's eyes. "Miss, you're going to be meeting Mr. Pendragon at his home. It's the top floor of the building."

"Oh." Gwen felt her face flush hot with embarrassment. "I… suppose we'll go to the restaurant from there. Thank you."

The door of the town car opened, and a well-dressed doorman was offering a white-gloved hand to help her out.

"Good evening, Miss Leodegrance. Mr. Pendragon is expecting you," said the doorman as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

Gwen tried to stop the little flutters in her stomach. _Well, he certainly doesn't mind his staff seeing to my needs, _she thought as the doorman walked ahead to open the extra tall front doors, which were made of spotless glass so clear that it was nearly invisible.

She was just about to ask the attendant to call upstairs (for really, there was no need for her to come up if they were going out) when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Gwen? Is it really you?"

Gwen turned around… and saw the face of a familiar friend.

"Merlin!"

The slight young man with a friendly face and piercing blue eyes greeted his old classmate with a smile.

And forgetting to be nervous, she ran into his arms for a hug.

**AG – AG – AG – AG – AG**

_**Merlin**_

By all the gods, little Gwen Leodegrance looked smoking _hot._

Of course, Merlin had never been interested in Gwen like _that_, and truth be told, he couldn't afford to turn his attentions toward one of his oldest friends. Between his on-again, off-again romance with Freya, whatever was going on with him and Arthur's half-sister (damn that _Morgana_ to all the hells that ever were), and the… _strange _things that had been happening to him, Arthur, and Morgana with more frequency lately, he had quite enough going on these days.

But his foster father's best friend's daughter had grown into a petite, sepia skinned _bombshell_ with silky dark curls and curves in all the right places. It was a warm night, and the shawl Gwen was wearing did little to conceal the fact that her dress was designed to hug all her curves. In all the years he'd known her, Merlin had never seen her look like this! She was drawing the eye of every man in that fancy lobby.

He broke into a huge grin as he realized what was obviously going on. Clearly, Gwen had a new boyfriend. After everything she'd been through when that Lance bloke left her high and dry, Merlin was glad to see his buddy had nicely recovered.

"What are you doing here?" Gwen asked as they walked through the lobby after their happy, friendly greeting.

"Come to see my best friend. Got something of his that I thought I'd return." He folded his arms. "What about you? Going to check out that new restaurant and nightspot with your new bloke?"

Gwen laughed. "No, just having dinner with… with a friend." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You look great, _Dr. _Emrys. Freya's good for you."

"Yeah," he said vaguely, waving her off. He wasn't really in the mood to talk about his own love life, that was certain. "I could say the same for you, Gwen. This friend of yours has you glowing."

"Thanks," she said shyly, as they approached the elevator bank. "Heading up as well?"

"Yes, but there are just residences above the second floor. You can reach the restaurant best via the escalator…"

"Oh, that's all right. I'm going upstairs as well, too." Gwen glanced down at Merlin's pocket. "Whatever you've got in there seems bright… new bill clip?"

Merlin looked down. Sure enough, there was an otherworldly glow that seemed to emanated from the seam of his pants pocket…

He frowned.

"Idiot's having some kind of reaction to this heirloom ring he always wears," he said, as they stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed behind them.

"Oh?" Gwen seemed mildly interested.

"Yeah. It's likely he's developed some kind of allergy to the metal, but instead of going to the doctor, he just had to ask his chemist BFF to check it out, see if it had turned or anything. It hasn't, so I get to tell the prat there's nothing to be concerned about," he said, more confidently than he felt.

"You've always been a great friend. So how's your research going?"

"I'll tell you if you let me escort you to the door of your new friend's residence," Merlin smirked. "What floor does he live on?"

"C'mon, Mer! You and Elyan are the worst when it comes to me dating anyone!"

"Yes, and you know how terrible of a liar I am. I don't want to have to lie to your big brother next time I talk to him and he asks how you're getting on in New York… and you _know _he'll want to know about this guy…"

"_Merlin!"_

"_Gwen_…"

In response to his imploring tone, Gwen let out a deep breath in an annoyed puff.

"Fine. He lives on the top floor. So unless you're going to ride all the way up with me, then back down again to see your friend…"

Merlin blinked. It took him a moment to register what Gwen was saying.

"Wait. Is your new friend called Arthur, by any chance?"

Gwen's frown of recognition made his heart sink. "How did you know that?"

"Because I've known him since we were 14! He's my… Gwen, you can't possibly be heading to a date with _Arthur Pendragon!"_

He'd known something had been going on with his best friend! The past few times they'd hung out to watch Premier League football or just shoot the breeze, Arthur had seemed preoccupied in the way that he did whenever a new girl was on his mind. No matter what names the Pendragon heir called him, Merlin _knew _Arthur. He'd always been like this with girls, ever since they were kids at school and he was the captain of three of their sports teams.

But Merlin also knew that Uther's approval meant the world to Arthur. And that approval was hard earned, because Uther was a hard man.

And there was no way on this green earth that Uther Pendragon would _ever _approve of Gwen Leodegrance dating his only son.

Of course, Gwen didn't like what Merlin was implying.

"Why can't I date Arthur?"

Merlin's hand came up to stroke her face affectionately.

"Because I don't want to see you hurt."

Gwen shook her head. "Come on, Mer, I thought you were better than this…"

"No, you don't understand! Arthur lives in a totally different world than you and I do. His father controls his entire life. If he dates you, there is a very good chance that Uther Pendragon will disown him!"

To that, Gwen laughed.

"Oh, Merlin. You always think we're living in some kind of fairy tale! Look, I get it. Your foster dad specializes in the history of medicine. My mother was a medievalist. We grew up with parents whose heads were always in the past. But Merlin, this is the 21st century! Arthur and I are just friends. We're going to enjoy a meal, and perhaps a little more, and then we'll never see each other again."

Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? Merlin, I am far too busy for another relationship right now. After I broke up with Lance, I lost six months of planning my bakery. And I don't know Arthur well, but…"

"What do you mean, you don't know him well?" Merlin gripped his friend's forearms. "Gwen, are you even listening to yourself?"

"What?"

"Listen, if you need money, you don't have to resort to…"

Gwen wrenched out of Merlin's arms. "Are you actually implying that I'm an escort, Merlin Emrys? Wait. Don't answer that. I don't want to think less of you than I already do."

"I'm actually _not _implying that. I know you and I know Arthur."

As Gwen pointedly ignored him, Merlin ran a pale hand through his dark hair, still flummoxed. Not only wasn't Gwen the type for casual relationships, Arthur was one of the rare guys he knew who didn't do casual, either. He was actually _not_ the type who'd spend time with a girl he didn't want to get to know better.

Which was why this was so strange.

"How on earth did the two of you meet?"

"At my job."

Merlin didn't get it. "What, did you bake something for him?"

"Yes. Well, no, not exactly, it's just that… he's come into my café every weekday for the past nine months."

Blink. Had Gwen told him that Arthur had just joined the circus, Merlin might have been less shocked. He tried to imagine a scenario where the infamously posh Pendragon _voluntarily _ate plebeian food on a daily basis, let alone _dined _with everyday people… and failed.

"What does he do there?"

In spite of how annoyed she was then (Merlin could tell), Gwen chortled.

"He does what every other businessman does. He has a cup of coffee and a slice of my pie, and reads the paper."

So _that's _what it was! Merlin had been tasting Gwen's desserts since they were children. Many had been the occasion when his foster dad Gaius had socialized with the Leodegrance family over dinner, and Gwen had brought out her best pies, cakes, and tarts. (She'd had a talent for cooking ever since her Easy Bake Oven days.)

Gwen _was _beautiful to look at, Merlin had to admit. Especially if you hadn't known her practically from infancy.

And Arthur had a _notorious_ sweet tooth.

"Gwen, are you saying Arthur's eaten nearly _two hundred slices _of your pie? Does he know that it's _your _pie?"

"You know he doesn't. My manager orders pies and cakes from me with the understanding that the customers won't connect my Diamond Bakery with the waitress who runs the day shift."

It made a weird sort of sense. But it was also all very strange. Then again, the past few years had been weird to the point of creepiness... beginning and ending with the mysterious wooden cup that had suddenly appeared in Arthur's home with no explanation…

…nine months before.

The elevator arrived at the top floor. As the doors opened, they both saw Arthur standing there. Although he'd overdone the cologne (_bit much there, mate) _he was freshly showered, shaved and dressed to _kill_ in a brick-red button down shirt, black pants, and wingtip black leather oxfords polished to a shine.

"Hello, you," Arthur said, taking Gwen's hand with his signature smile and leading her into the penthouse. Then he noticed Merlin right behind her. "Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you again too, mate," was Merlin's sarcastic reply, as both he and Gwen took in the penthouse. The great room featured floor-to-ceiling windows, affording a perfect view of the New York skyline. Catering staff were putting the finishing touches on a splendid table for two, lit with tapered candles.

And around the grand piano, a jazz quartet was tuning up their instruments, preparing for a private concert.

"Oh, my," said Gwen softly, taking everything in, stars in her midnight dark eyes. "You did all this… for me?"

"It was my pleasure, Guinevere. You've been serving me for months… tonight, I plan to cater to you."

Merlin, standing several feet behind, cleared his throat pointedly.

Arthur turned around and gave him an annoyed, impatient look. "What is it?"

"Right. Do you have a moment?"

Gwen spoke up. "We ran into each other downstairs. Merlin's an old friend of mine."

"He is, is he?" Arthur's annoyed glare turned both menacing _and _uncertain at the same time. "How do you two know each other?"

"Her mum was a professor at the same college as Gaius," Merlin spoke up. "We've known each other since we were kids. After we moved here from England, I went to school with her brother till Gaius shipped me away to boarding school, where I met you."

Arthur didn't seem convinced _or _amused. "What a coincidence."

"If I could just have a word, idiot, I'll let you get started on your evening."

"You're the idiot..."

Gwen laughed warmly, diffusing the tension. "It's fine, Arthur. Let me just take in this spectacular view for a moment! I thought we would be going to a restaurant but this is a million times better." Releasing Arthur's hand, she walked up to Merlin and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the escort, Mer… I expect that you'll give Dad and Elyan a good report."

Merlin grinned. "Yeah, sure. See you later, Gwen."

Arthur all but yanked Merlin back to the elevator the second Gwen's back was turned. His best mate was far stronger, so it wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Ouch! What's all this for?"

"Shut up, Merlin. Why are you here?"

"Because I finished the tests on that heirloom ring of yours." Merlin pulled it out of his pocket and rested it on Arthur's upturned palm. Both men stared at it as it flashed with golden fire. "Nothing's going on with it."

"But it's almost too hot to the touch," Arthur complained as he put the ring back on his pointer finger, where he generally wore it. "Something's wrong with it. Haven't been able to stand it for more than a few hours since last year."

"I've told you, it's probably some kind of allergy. And unlike Gaius, I _don't _have an MD to go along with my PhD. I've run all sorts of tests on this thing. It's fine. Except…"

Arthur folded his arms. "What is it?"

"You told me that this all started up when you broke up with Mithian, right?"

"Yeah, shortly after. That was, what, eight or nine months ago?"

"Exactly. And Gwen told me that's how long you've been going to her diner."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Merlin shook his head. "Arthur, all the strange things that have been happening began right after Christmas last year."

Arthur got a funny look on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The ring you inherited from your mum glowing and giving off heat all of a sudden. That strange chalice that just popped into your cupboard one day, and how _sick _Morgana got after drinking out of it that time. And especially that damn sword…"

His best friend laughed it off.

"Look, my family has a lot of weird rubbish that's so old no one knows where it came from. Morgana got ill because she's overdue for a bit of karma after she tried to steal Albion from me last year. And that damn sword is going to impress Gwen when I show it to her later tonight…"

"Not the only sword you have in mind to show off, is it, mate?" Merlin chuckled.

Arthur was not amused. "Sod off."

Merlin shook his head. "Come on, be serious. Gwen is a nice girl. One of the best. What exactly are you after?"

"What's any man after when he meets a woman like Guinevere?"

Merlin knew that Arthur had no idea that his voice had softened and his face had changed. He was drinking in the sight of Gwen, looking absolutely perfect as she took in the view, greeting the wait staff and the musicians amicably, and looking every bit as if she belonged.

"Are you sure, mate?" Merlin asked. "After all, it's only a first date."

"A first date I've been wanting to ask her on for three months. And before that, I saw her nearly every day for six months."

"She told me how you met. You do realize you've been eating _her _pie the entire time, right?"

Arthur blinked as if he were snapping out of the trance Gwen had put him in, and turned to consider his best friend. "What?"

"She bakes everything for the diner. It's her dream, Arthur. She wants her own bakery, and she's been working at Liberty to save."

"Is _that _why she's been waitressing at that place?" Arthur chuckled. "No wonder the pie and coffee were so good. Guinevere is like a diamond in a pigsty there. It's beneath her… thanks for telling me."

"Now, Arthur, I didn't tell you so that you'd act like a rich prat," admonished Merlin. "The girl's clearly happy with her life as it is. Leave it alone unless you're serious about her…"

"What's between me and her is none of your business," said Arthur, hitting the elevator button so that it opened.

Merlin shrugged. "Fine. She's got a linebacker for a brother, and her father looks as if he benchpresses steel ties. It's your funeral if you hurt her."

Arthur's eyes were back on Gwen.

"I won't hurt her."

"And since this is your first date, she's a nice girl, and you're a _gentleman,_ perhaps you should think twice about all the _pie-eating_ you've been doing…."

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur shoved him into the elevator. "Good-_bye_, Merlin."

As the elevator doors closed, Merlin could see Gwen turn away from the windows, and greet Arthur with a smile that could only be described as sexy.

It looked very much to Merlin that Gwen very well might be offering up another kind of pie… on a silver platter.

And her pie was clearly a dish Arthur's sweet tooth was primed for.

** -to be continued-**

**A/N: **Apologies for the length of time between updates! Originally, I thought this story would be just a romantic one-shot, but seems like Arwen had other plans.

Next time, Arthur and Gwen enjoy dinner, music, and more…

…and there will be _pie, _too.

Until next time,

**~Dr. Holland**


End file.
